


Practice Makes Perfect

by KissingWinchesters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Community: smpc, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 19:32:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14171922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KissingWinchesters/pseuds/KissingWinchesters
Summary: After returning from a hunt the Winchesters head to the cave to relax and eat a ton of Easter chocolate. Dean is hoping to put something else in his mouth other than candy.





	Practice Makes Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the insaaaaaanely beautiful art accompanying this fic by merakieros here https://merakieross.livejournal.com/11711.html

“No, no, no… it bounced at least five times, c'mon.”

“It bounced twice.”

Dean pfft’s and hip bumps Sam as they walk into the cave. He’s as sure that the skinwalkers head bounced five times (at least) as he is that he’s a genius for making them this room.

It’s awesome.

Two comfy reclining chairs, a huge tv, Netflix (oh, yes!), and Dean had even fixed up some lamps out of empty kegs. It was a cave fit for a king, or you know, two hunters. And it’s become a bit of a routine for them after working a case to make use of the newest room in the bunker. To be honest, Sam had been the one to suggest it in the first place, converting one of the many unused rooms into somewhere more resembling a living room for them. Somewhere to relax and destress (Sam’s words). Dean had been sour that he hadn’t been the one to think of it, but had taken the bull by the horns and transformed the large yet junk filled room into something actually pretty comfortable. Sam would even go as far as calling it cosy, though he kept that thought to himself.

Clinking their beer bottles together, the boys take their seats, Dean’s on the right, Sam’s on the left (farthest from the door). Old habits die hard with Dean.

“Ah, what…” Sam frowns and puts his beer on the table between their chairs, fidgeting around under his butt. “I’m sitting on something.”

After rummaging around Sam finally pulls a small foil wrapped chocolate egg from underneath him. He holds it up and looks at his brother.

“Is this yours?”

Dean groans and rolls his eyes at himself, putting his beer down next to Sam’s. “I’d forgotten about those. I uh, might have hidden some Easter candy around. I was going to tell you but then the case came up and… huh, I can’t even remember where I hid most of it.”

Sam chuckles and unwraps the pale blue foil, popping it into his mouth and standing up.

“Guess you’d better help me look then,” Sam says, munching in the chocolate happily. “I hid a few things in here too.”

Dean’s eyes light up.

“You did. Well, come on then. I need me some sugar.”

Dean slaps both hands on his knees and they both get to work, looking under the chair cushions, behind the tv, anywhere that candy might be stashed. They both know exactly where they hid the stuff of course, but it’s more fun to pretend that they can’t remember.

“Hey, you scored,” Sam says, grinning as he pulls a golden egg out of the plastic goal in the foseball table.

“So did you,” Dean replies, the bag of mini chocolate eggs Sam had put in the opposite goal now in Dean’s hand. “Easter is the best holiday for candy. After Halloween.”

“Did we get everything?”

They both look at their hoard and then at each other. Dean has a blob of melting chocolate in the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, you got all what I hid.”

“You have too,” Sam says, and he sits back down, not before checking his seat again just in case. No one wants chocolate stains on their pants.

“Awesome,” Dean beams, grabbing a bag of Reece’s pieces and the tv remote. “Time to Netflix and chill.”

Sam smiles, biting his bottom lip to stop it spreading to a full on grin, even a laugh. Another thing that’s been happening since they got the cave is that Dean keeps saying “Netflix and chill” without knowing what the phrase has come to mean thanks to the internet. Sam can’t help but find it hilarious, but also really adorable that Dean doesn’t know.

“Who invented this whole Netflix and chill thing anyways? I mean, it’s genius, but what else would you be doing watching Netflix? Netflix and panic?”

Sam snorts and unwraps a Reece’s bunny rabbit. It seems a shame to eat its ears, but he does anyway.

“I don’t know,” Sam smiles, glancing over at Dean, his profile lit up by the flickering colours of the tv. Sam keeps watching him. Now that it’s allowed he can’t seem to stop.

“What to watch? What to watch?” Dean mutters to himself

“I’ll find something,” Sam says, stealing the remote from Dean’s fingers, chewing on the last of the chocolate bunny.

“Sneaky shit.”

Sam gives Dean a wink and runs his tongue along his bottom lip. He can feel Dean’s eyes on him, their roles reversed now, and Sam thinks he enjoys the pleasure of Dean looking at him as much as the feeling of watching Dean. After so many years of being careful not to look for too long, they’re both taking full advantage of being able to now.

“If you keep doing that who’s gonna stop me wandering into documentaries?”

Sam sees Dean shrug out of the corner of his eye, that heated gaze never straying. Sam licks his bottom lip again, hearing the click of Dean’s throat as he swallows.

“Here’s one on the Kansas strangler,” Sam says, his voice steady despite the adrenaline kick rushing through him. Dean doesn’t reply, so Sam lists more shows hoping to get some sort of reaction, anything. “Three hours of a show on the reign of Stalin?”

Sam actually looks over at Dean this time. He has a tiny cut on his chin, Sam thinks that was his fault, when he’d had to grab hold of the skinwalker when it had launched itself at them.

“Do you want to choose something or what?” Sam shrugs and waggles the the remote in the air before laughing and deciding to put 1000 ways to die on. Dean loves that show, and after getting over how much it reminded him of Dean dying, Sam had started to like it too.

Still silent, Dean gets up out of his chair, moving the short distance to where Sam’s knees are jutting out. He leans slowly, taking the remote from Sam’s fingers and putting the show on mute before tossing it onto his now empty seat.

“Dean?”

“I don’t wanna watch tv, Sammy.”

Nudging Sam’s legs apart, Dean kneels down into the gap between them, his hands sliding up Sam’s thighs and back down.

Sam’s mouth drops open, an intake of breath when Dean’s fingertips drag against his muscles. Of course he’d sensed Dean was up for doing something, but Sam wasn’t prepared for him going straight in for the kill.

Dean’s fingers roam over Sam’s hips, pushing his shirt up a little, only so a sliver of his stomach shows. Sam watches Dean’s eyes drink him in, heated and so focused that Sam is surprised his skin doesn’t set on fire.

Trying not to squirm, Sam’s hand hovers in the air, hesitating as to where to go. Dean’s head is still to far away to reach, and it’s tempting for Sam to link his fingers with Dean’s, to guide him eagerly to where he wants to be touched. He doesn’t do that though. Sam wants Dean to do what he wants, how he wants, so with a shaking breath, Sam grips the arm rests until his bones creak.

Dean looks up like he can hear Sam’s thoughts, his fingers stopping just short of Sam’s dick, drawing a choked whine out of his brother. Dean smiles and then ducks his head down, getting his nose and mouth right up against Sam’s crotch, nuzzling against into his jeans.

“Fuck!”

Sam slams one hand down against the arm of the chair, his heels skidding forward on the floor like a bolt of electricity has just shot through him. Dean uses his forearm to keep Sam’s knees apart and still, he does not want to be winded by Sam’s flailing limbs.

“Gonna do a better job this time,” Dean says, his words a very welcome vibration to Sam’s growing erection. “Make it good this time.”

Sam frowns at this and gets his brain into gear to process what the hell Dean means. Make it good this time? Dean doesn’t think it was good for Sam the other times he’s blown him. Sure, that number is less than a handful, and Dean hadn’t had his mouth around another guys dick before, but not good?

“Dean… ah, you…” Sam hisses, his head tipping back involuntarily as Dean undoes the button and zipper of his jeans, still nuzzling and inhaling Sam’s scent. “Every time has been good. D-didn’t you know that?”

It’s crazy if Dean doesn’t know. The first time Dean’s lips had touched the head of his dick Sam had bucked his hips so hard he’d nearly thrown Dean right off the bed. Ok, so his technique… while enthusiastic, had been a little messy, but each time Sam had writhed and fallen apart with his brother’s name shuddering out of him like a prayer.

“Not good enough.”

Dean’s pulling Sam out of his boxers, his mouth opening in anticipation of what’s to come, his eyes glinting and dark. Sam’s not sure what’s driving this train of thought, but Dean looks determined, and he’s not really in a position to argue with him. They’re going to talk about it though… after… absolutely…

“Take off your shirt, Sam.”

“Wha?” Sam blinks, his mind in a haze.

“Shirt. Off.”

“Oh.” Sam starts to unbutton his shirt on command. “You too.”

Dean grins and does the same, throwing his shirt and tshirt on the floor next to him. When Sam’s taken his own off he throws them behind him, his tshirt landing on the foosball table.

Dean chuckles and then ducks his head.

“Oh, fuck…” Sam curses through gritted teeth, Dean’s tongue searing a stripe of wet heat across the head of his cock.

Now that Dean’s hair is within reach, Sam takes advantage and scrapes his nails over his scalp, stopping when he has enough of Dean’s hair in his grasp to tug on.

Dean grunts and puts his hand around Sam’s cock, holding it up to his mouth. He breathes through his nose a couple of times, licks his lips, and then opens up and takes Sam in.

“Woah, Jesus… ok, uh.. slow, Dean,” Sam pants, using his hold on Dean’s head to steady him. Eager is good yeah, but Dean wants to get better at this, so Sam’s going to help him. It’s a win-win after all. “Start slow, don’t move your mouth yet.”

Something clicks in Dean then, his shoulders drop, and his body relaxes. He’s listening, waiting for Sam’s instructions, Sam’s cockhead resting on his tongue.

“Ok, uh… suck me a little, just there.”

Dean nods and does just that, sliding his hand up Sam’s dick and hollowing his cheeks. He sucks gently, testing out how much pressure makes Sam’s breath come quicker, how far he can go before Sam’s pulling on his hair.

“Keep going,” Sam says, keeping his hips from bucking up like they want too and choking his brother. “That’s good.”

Sam’s eyes close but he can feel the smile Dean gives him. He’s applying just the right amount of pressure, perfect suction to get Sam fully hard, his balls throbbing as Dean works him.

Dean must be able to tell that he’s doing good, because he adds his tongue, flicking it under the ridge where he knows sam is most sensitive. He lets more of Sam into his mouth, stroking his cock with firm twists of his wrist, and he even uses his teeth just enough to have Sam’s eyes flying open, stomach muscles convulsing.

“Hey…” Dean coughs as he releases his brother’s dick, his lips smacking together. “You want me to bite it off? Keep still.”

“Ok, ok, sorry… keep going…”

Sam is panting, his body vibrating with need.

“Uh-huh,” Dean grins and goes back to blowing Sam, his earlier hunger pushing past his restraint.

It’s wet and messy, but the combination of that and Dean’s increase in pace is a shock to the system, and all the throbbing in his balls is giving him the warning signals of an orgasm.

“Oh… wait, I’m…” Sam’s toes curl, and a distant part of his brain curses that he didn’t put on socks after his shower, the concrete not exactly pleasant against his skin.

Dean hums, long and drawn out, keeping it low in his throat to add to the sensations driving Sam crazy.

Sam starts to count backwards from one hundred, willing himself not to blow his load so soon, but he really has to concentrate. Dean had always been good at this, despite his ridiculous idea that he wasn’t, but this is something else. He’s got about half of Sam’s cock in his mouth, his head rising and falling with ease, comfortable enough to grope Sam a little while he’s blowing him.

Sam’s always been ticklish, would never win fights when they were kids because Dean wound always play dirty and jam his fingers into Sam’s armpits until he submitted in defeat, tears flowing down his cheeks.

Being ticklish while having sex can be more of a benefit than a curse like it is in play fights. Every touch that Dean gives him sends shockwaves up Sam’s spine, makes his heart race in his chest, his pupils dilate.

If Dean carries on like this, Sam is going to come, and soon.

“Dean… I’m so…I’m gonna…”

“Hmm…” Dean pulls up and sucks hard on the head of Sam’s cock before releasing him completely. “Going to?”

“Shut up, you know… why’d you stop?”

Dean shrugs, still stroking Sam leisurely.

“Wanted to try something.”

“What… oh…. fucking… Dean!”

Sam’s back arches, Dean’s tongue and lips and nose pressing hard against his balls. Dean grabs Sam’s hips to keep him still, but it’s a struggle.

“Oh fuck, yes…”

Dean laughs, low in his throat, and then sucks one of Sam’s balls into his mouth.

“Dean… oh god, that’s… I’m gonna come, Dean.”

Sucking harder, Dean pulls on Sam’s testicle, not too much, but just enough to send sparks of pleasure crashing through his body. Dean looks up, momentarily transfixed on the precome dripping from Sam’s cock, but it’s Sam’s face that keeps his attention. He’s totally gone, lost in the pinpoint of pleasure right before an orgasm, where your mind shuts down and only one thing exists.

Dean takes the other testicle into his mouth and rolls it against his tongue, and Sam cries out.

The hot splash come on Dean’s cheek shocks him enough for him to let go of Sam’s ball with a wet pop. His hand is almost limp on Sam’s cock, so Dean realises that Sam just got tipped over the edge by having his balls sucked.

“Fuck, yes… uhhhh…”

Sam’s still coming, and Dean’s face is still getting hit with the majority of it, some even hits him just under the eye.

“Ah, watch it, Sammy.” Dean moves Sam’s pulsing cock so he’s out of the line of fire, much happier to see Sam spilling over his hand. 

Sam shakes and twitches, but eventually he’s got nothing left, not even when Dean sucks on his cock again, lapping up the come smeared on the head.

“Ahh… no more…” Sam hisses, too sensitive to let dean keep touching him.

Dean has mercy, sitting back on his legs and smiling. His knees are screaming at him for kneeling so long on the concrete floor, but it was so worth it. He does make a mental note to get some rugs though.

“Better this time, right,” Dean says, stroking Sam’s thighs with his thumbs.

“Get up here.” Sam hauls Dean from the floor, tugging on his arms until dean gets up and straddles his brother. It’s a tight fit, the chairs not made for two grown-ass men, but they make it work.

Dean immediately pulls Sam in for a heated kiss, and Sam moans at the taste of himself lingering on Dean’s tongue. His arms wrap around Sam’s waist, and he rocks against him, grinding against Dean’s erection.

When they separate, lack of oxygen forcing them to do so, Sam undoes Dean’s jeans and takes out his straining cock.

“Was amazing,” Sam pants, jerking Dean as best he can at this awkward angle. “Always is with you.”

Dean buries his head in Sam’s neck, thrusting erratically and desperately into the fist Sam has curled around him.

It doesn’t take long, Dean’s been hard and untouched all the time he was blowing Sam.

“Harder, Sam,” Dean says, grinding his ass down in Sam’s lap, kissing Sam’s neck and shoulder. “Yeah, so good…”

“Come on, Dean.”

Sam tightens his grip and jerks Dean faster, pushing the head through his fist over and over until Dean shudders and bites down on Sam’s shoulder.

“Oww!”

Dean stops trying to chew a piece out of Sam and thrusts slowly as the last pulses of come land on Sam’s stomach.

“God damn that was hot,” Dean says, kissing the bite marks he left on Sam and sitting up straight.

“That was… unexpected.” Sam smiles to show Dean that it was most definitely a good unexpected.

Dean shrugs, making no move to get off Sam’s lap just yet.

“Practice makes perfect, I guess.”

Dean puts his fingers under Sam’s chin and tilts his head up for a kiss. Practice definitely sounds like a good idea.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Hm?"

"Now you know what it really means."

"What what really means?" Dean continues to kiss Sam lazily.

"Netflix and chill." Sam smiles against Dean's lips.

"Wait, you mean, what we just... ohhh ok, so not really chilling?"

"Not really chilling."

"Think I prefer this version," Dean grins, nibbling the corner of Sam's mouth and moving his hips again.

"Me too," Sam gasps. "Me too."


End file.
